


All Good Things

by Mycroftiest



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Goodbyes, His Last Vow, M/M, MY BABIES, Sherlock's exile in Eastern Europe, Sherstrade, fluff / angst, lots of detail
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 07:59:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9169675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mycroftiest/pseuds/Mycroftiest
Summary: Set in His Last Vow the day before Sherlock boards the aeroplane and flies off to Eastern Europe.Greg and Sherlock say their final goodbyes.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I realise now I probably should've posted this before The Six Thatchers aired so it fit with the timeline (everyone's probably bored with this kind of stuff now after 3 years lol) but I didn't so here we are. 
> 
> Enjoy :)

"So where is it you're going again?" Greg asked, blatantly avoiding the elephant in the room. He stood in the living room of 221B, his hands in his coat pockets.

"Eastern Europe, according to Mycroft." Sherlock's answer was deliberately vague, Greg suspected and he didn't push any further. He nodded and glanced around the room as if it was the first time he'd ever been there, making a point not to look at Sherlock for too long for fear of what he might see. Greg's eyes were immediately drawn to the small coffee table by John's usual chair which normally housed an empty mug or perhaps a notebook. Today, however, there was a only a used syringe. Greg felt his heart sink. 

"Sherlock." He muttered, slowly averting his gaze back to the man stood before him. 

"I..." Sherlock started, as if to justify himself but he trailed off. "I'm sorry." He said instead, refusing to look directly into Greg's eyes. Greg wanted to be angry with him but he just couldn't, not when he knew what Sherlock would have to go through over the next few days. 

"How much?" He asked instead. 

"Enough." 

Greg sighed and nodded again. "Right." A tension fell over the room and suddenly neither man knew what to say. 

Greg's chest clenched as it sunk in what was really happening. He never anticipated how unbearably hard it would be to say goodbye. "I'm. I'm not... good... at this." Greg stuttered out. 

"No. I know." Sherlock replied with a small but sad smile on his lips, his own way of saying that neither was he. Greg already knew. He was stuck, unsure of what to do, whether to draw it out or just get it over with. He was about to tell Sherlock just how much he meant to him and oh how he'd miss him, when Sherlock held out his hand. "See you in six months?" He offered, a false and grossly unrealistic estimation of how long he'd be gone. There was a hitch in his voice and a glint in his eye and it pained Greg to see him like this. 

Greg softened. "See you in six months." He conceded, deciding it would be infinitely less painful to pretend that this wasn't the end of everything good in his life. He reached his own arm out, taking Sherlock's trembling hand and giving it a brief squeeze before pulling away again after only a few short seconds. 

Greg slowly turned to leave but Sherlock's hand shot out, holding fast to his wrist. Greg swallowed, dipping his head and desperately wished he couldn't feel each of Sherlock's cold fingers wrapped around his warm wrist. He turned back to him and sighed. 

"Wait?" Sherlock barely whispered. His grip loosened and his pinky finger slid down to rest on Greg's palm. Greg looked up at his pale face, his eyes glazed over and bloodshot, pupils barely pin pricks. 

"Sherlock-" Greg began.

"-please." Sherlock's voice shook, and for what seemed like the hundredth time that day Greg's heart broke for him. 

"Sherlock. Of course I'll wait for you." Greg promised, removing his wrist from Sherlock's possessive grip and replacing it with his hand. Their fingers entwined. He saw something flicker across Sherlock's face for the briefest of moments and seconds passed in silence as Greg just looked at him. Looked at every part of his face, trying desperately to commit it all to memory, just as Sherlock would have done. He never wanted to forget a single thing. 

Sherlock lowered his eyes and whispered his name but before he could finish Greg rushed forwards, closing the gap between them and encasing him in his arms. Greg heard the rush of air leave Sherlock's lips as he buried his face in his neck and wrapped his arms tighter round his shoulders. Sherlock's body shook and Greg couldn't tell if it was the drugs or something else entirely. 

"It's okay." He whispered, although he wasn't sure it was. He'd been told what to expect by Mycroft. He'd been told to say goodbye, that this was it. But for now Greg pushed that out of his mind and clung to Sherlock as if his life depended on it. He felt Sherlock's arms snake around his waist as the other man clung back. 

Greg had promised himself that he wouldn't cry and he would keep that promise no matter how much strength it took. He could not break down today.  
Sherlock's shaky breath brushed against Greg's neck and Greg tilted his head slightly, placing the softest, gentlest of kisses against his jaw. Overwhelmed by the sudden strength of emotion he felt, Greg had to pull back, letting go of Sherlock completely. 

In all the years Greg had known him he'd never seen Sherlock like this. He looked lost and vulnerable. He looked uncertain and most of all he looked afraid. They both knew this was the end. After this was over Greg would go home and tomorrow Sherlock would board a plane to god-knows-where in Eastern Europe and probably never return. They knew there was no other option. 

Sherlock took a step towards Greg and opened his mouth as if to say something but nothing came out. Moments passed where Greg just looked at him. And Sherlock looked back. And Greg knew he had to go. He knew he had to turn around and walk out of the flat, leaving the man he loved behind for good. He knew that if he didn't do it now it would hurt ten times more tomorrow. 

So he reached forwards with his left hand, resting it on Sherlock's soft cheek, watching as his eyelids fluttered closed and he savoured the touch. He stretched his neck out, Sherlock standing unmoved, and gently touched their lips together for the final time. He noted the warmth of their faces so close, the way their noses brushed together, only slightly, the small cracks in the skin on Sherlock's upper lip where it had become dry and sore. 

"Goodbye, Sherlock." Greg whispered with his eyes still closed and their noses still touching before letting his hand softly slide from his face and turning towards the door. He didn't dare glance back at him for fear of how much it would hurt realising that it would be the last ever time. 

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, about to open the front door, Greg heard the gentle tones of a violin, playing a sad kind of melody he'd never heard before. He paused, a single tear falling down his cheek. Goodbye Sherlock.


End file.
